Table for Two
by frickangel
Summary: All Leo needed was a chance and all Chris wanted was a father. FatherSon bond, Number two in the 'Angel in my Arms' series.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Table for Two  
**Author**: frickangel  
**Summary**: All he needed was a chance and all he wanted was a father. Father-Son bond, Number two in the '_Angel in my Arms_' series.  
**A/N**: Doesn't it bother anyone that after the events of '_Chris Crossed_' Chris doesn't ever confide in anyone about what happened? Seriously, the guy's an emotional wreck of breakdown waiting to happen—which is good actually for angst and H/C fics. –**Rubs hands in glee**–  
Oh, seeing that this is Number Two of the series, reading the first part does help with the small bit of continuance between them. Not a necessity but it does help.  
**Timeline: **Somewhere between, '_Spin City'_ and '_Stormy Leather_'.  
**Warning: **Totally Un-beta'd.  
**Disclaimer**: Don't know, don't own and don't I wish.

* * *

_"'__Future consequences?'  
'More like future issues…'  
'__Oh, father-son problems.'"_  
**_-Spin City_**

------

A promise was a promise.

Taking in the calm of the manor, Leo reminded himself of the words he uttered to Piper as she retreated into the safety net of Magic school.

"_Besides, I'm only an orb away if the girls need me," she had flashed such a reassuring smile that he almost believed her and wanted so much to leave the complications behind. _

"_No," Shaking his head, the Elder knew his responsibilities, and his priorities; he had lost track on what was important to him once too many times and he swore never to allow that to reoccur, "I... told them to call me first."_

"_You? You're not going back up there?" Her disbelief had stung him a little if not a lot, but he knew he had deserved such doubt. _

"_No," Leo muttered again and smiled at his son, drawing comfort from his small yet such powerful presence. "My family needs me here right now."_

Eyes focused on the makeshift notice board in the attic, Leo shook away the cobwebs of the memory and took in a deep breath. He missed her terribly and wanted her to be with him, talking to him or even making teasing but criticising remarks about how he had left them be and permitted his own son to hate him so.

Releasing the long held breath, Leo dug his hands into the pockets of his slacks and attempted to read the charts on the board. Frowning at the scribbles someone had left on a few demons' names, he couldn't quite figure out if the words belonged to one of Piper's sisters or Chris. Whoever it was, it still didn't solve the paper-thin relationship between him and his youngest. If it weren't for the biological factor, Leo had a feeling that Chris wouldn't bother to even breathe the same air.

It was a long unplanned chance for him and now was the perfect time. Paige and Phoebe were out hunting another demon and Leo knew Chris was around somewhere. The plan was to casually talk to Chris and get him to convey whatever issues he had.

Rubbing his jaw, Leo mentally prepared himself for any decking he'd get once the cards were out on the table. The boy packed a punch even without super spider-demon powers. But there was a flaw in Leo's great plan of catharsis—he needed to work up the nerve to approach his son. Sure, it seemed simple in the mind: walk up to him, smile, and let the words flow. Again, Leo also painfully knew he was no wizard in words and definitely not a man of emotional release—even for a Whitelighter.

Time was up for self-sympathy and he needed to act. It was truly a moment of now or never.

Pulses of hope, emotions, and even pain; Leo stretched the unseen tendrils of his guardian senses out into the world, hoping to reach one of the few most important people to him. He concentrated and took shallow but calming breathes of air, each time holding his focus.

Piper had sat herself down on one of the many grand couches of Magic school, lost in the folds of its soft fabric while reading to Wyatt. It was one of his favourite stories, about a goldfish and a swim down the drains; the book showed its signs of wear and tear with the edges of its pages curling in and wrinkling. Then on the other end of town, Phoebe was cringing at the demon dust stains on her clothes, while Paige rolled her eyes at her overreaction. They quipped a little here and there, shooting witty one-liners at each other before deciding to orb on to their target.

Opening his eyes slowly, the connections drained away gradually as Leo readjusted himself to the physical surroundings of the attic. He took in another long breath and saw the white orbs and the clear bells fill the air; everything else began to fade and dissolve away, until he found the solid footing and the familiar wallpaper of the living room greeted him. Just one step away from the rest of the world and it took him a little while longer to sense where his son was.

In the kitchen.

Cookie jar opened wide, with a half eaten piece in his mouth, he was hunched over the Book of Shadows like always; Leo's lips curved into a small smile and watched silently. The boy was never seen without the Book anytime.

Then again, he wasn't around much to see him at all.

"Does that become your permanent security blanket or something?"

He jerked and Leo witnessed with slight amusement as the cookie piece dropped from his mouth and rescued in his hands with one swift move. "Could you _not_ do that!"

Leo shrugged and crossed his arms, "Do what?"

"The whole…" Chris made a face and slammed the book shut, "Sneaking up on me thing—very unnerving and not cool. Especially now…"

Raising his eyebrows, Leo flashed an apologetic smile, "Sorry." And that was it, Leo had no idea how else to go on and to approach him much less actually say anything else. Standing by the doorway, he fidgeted with his fingers and the fabric of his plaid shirt, wondering what was the next best thing to say or talk about. A few inches away, Chris made to dust off crumbs from his shirt and re-opened the Book—and stopped short.

"Is something wrong?" his eyes widened in worry, "Mom or Wyatt? Aren't there at Magic school? What happened? Where are Paige and Phoebe?"

"Whoa," Leo placed his outstretched arms as if trying to stop a train and made his way to the panicked half witch; leave it to Chris to over think situations and get worked up about nothing. He really was his mother's son. "No, everything's fine, Piper and Wyatt are in Magic school and safe. Your aunts are still out there vanquishing the _Bekra_ demon… so just relax."

All the wind of adrenaline and worry deflated from him as Chris shoulders slouched, allowing him to sigh and rub his tired eyes. Leo's eyes settled on the cookies in the jar, following the random positions of the oatmeal that surrounded each walnut and raisin. "I hate raisins," Leo loathed his attempt at small talk, but that was all that he could muster up. "I really don't get how people got the idea of drying grapes." He gave a nervous laugh, trying to sound as casual as possible, "How about you?"

Chris shrugged.

Frustration was beginning to take another level up with his lame stabs at father and son bonding—very, very lame. Leo tapped his finger on the kitchen counter as his son went back to the Book again and then—the pieces fell into place.

"You hungry?" Leo questioned, because after all, it was almost seven in the evening, the sun was going down, their main cook was eight months pregnant and away at Magic school, and here was Chris chowing down on home baked goods. He figured that if Chris were like any other kid—aside from the fact that he'd just travelled 22 years back in time to save the world—he was one who'd rather satisfy his appetite with junk food then with an actual proper meal.

Then there was Piper who was going to kill him for even thinking her baking fell under the junk food category.

"No, I'm fine."

"Right…" Leo might've believed him, but the fact that Chris hungrily dug his hand into the container again while still gulping down the last cookie wasn't at all convincing. "Come on, let's go."

"Huh?" looking up, Chris frowned in confusion. "Go where?"

"For dinner."

"Not hungry."

This wasn't going to be easy, "Chris, it's just a bite to eat nearby."

"Like I said…" he muttered again, this time burying his nose deeper into the pages of the Book. "Not hungry."

If there was one trump card he could use, he knew it would be this, "Hey, I made a promise to your mother that I take care of you. And to her, the most important part of 'taking care' is three square, and balanced, meals a day." It was a white lie and Leo wondered if Elders were allowed to play white lies, he must've skipped that part somewhere, "Since I've already missed the first two ones, the least I could keep my promise on is dinner."

The only response he got was a whispering rustle from another page being flipped. Chris, on the other hand, took it upon himself to remain silent and Leo could see his jaw muscles tighten, probably mulling over the thirty ways of rudely telling his father to take a hike.

Leo grasped those moments of silence to think up of other excuses to persuade Chris to do something with him—anything. There must be some way of getting him to open up, or at least speak more than just the sparse two syllable responses and have longer sentences, even a normal adult conversation if the fates were so generous enough. What could he be so guilty of that even his own flesh and blood would despise him like this?

Maybe he could say that Piper was meeting up with them for dinner.

No… that wouldn't work. He'd know that none of them would risk having Piper out in the open. Or maybe having Paige and Phoebe call him up and order him to dinner, he seemed to take their advice easily enough. Or he could try telli—

"Fine."

"What?" Leo woke from his evening musings.

"We go, but it's gotta be fast. I've got work." Chris' voice wasn't enthusiastic the least bit, but it was a start. Moving up, the young one locked the airtight jar, sealing its contents and then holding the Book.

Whispering an unvoiced thank you to the heavens for the chance, Leo nodded, "A quick one. I promise." Within himself, Leo was wincing at the number of promises he was making.

As he gazed at Chris running up the stairs with the Book, the father made a silent prayer that he'd be able to keep those promises.

------

**TBC…**

Thanks for reading.  
-Cheers  
Jo


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Table for Two  
**Author**: frickangel  
**Summary**: All Leo needed was a chance and all Chris wanted was a father. Father-Son bond, Number two in the '_Angel in my Arms_' series.  
**A/N**: Currently trying hard to weave continuity between my stories for this series, hope it works.  
Oh, and if anyone can figure out which other TV Show I'm trying to pay homage to, I'll give you a cookie.  
**Timeline: **Somewhere between, '_Spin City'_ and '_Stormy Leather_'.  
**Warning: **Totally Un-beta'd.  
**Disclaimer**: Don't know, don't own and don't I wish.  
**Chapter 2**

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He could count the number of words spoken in the last hour all on two hands.

None were to each other.

Rubbing the tips of his fingers together, Leo brushed the few grains of salt before picking up his napkin and ridding himself of the grease left by his cold fries. Elbows on the table now—in complete ignorance for proper etiquette—he pressed his lips together as he eyed his half-eaten burger. Right across him, his son was just as much picking on his chosen dinner, which was also more greasy fries and chockfull-of-fat-filled cheeseburger.

People around them seem to be happy, or at least happier than they were; gulping down a few beers, joking about, throwing crude insults at each other, and just enjoying themselves. Leo watched hypnotically as the bartender behind the counter filled a few tall glasses with some sort of blue coloured concoction. The man's movements seem to be in sync with the cheap music from the jukebox—some odd country mix—and only accented by the yellow lamps nailed to the tables. His apron advertised the name of the pub and grill they were in, with the words '_McGinty's_' printed in a white cursive font on the apron's green material; the exact same way it was on the napkin he was holding.

Leo wondered what Seamus would've thought of such an Irish setting for a bar. Smoothening out the crumpled piece in his hands, the Elder turned back at his son who was busy looking preoccupied with his meal—or at least he pretended to be.

There must be something they could talk about. What was it they were laughing about back when Phoebe was turned into a genie? About letters and stationery or whatever. Was there anything earlier which they had discussed about, maybe some funny incident they shared?

Come to think of it, the only things he could remember were the moments he vocally displayed his distrust about Chris, his threats to send him back to the future with the other Elders; telling Chris he wasn't part of the family; oh, and the part where he held Chris down at sword point in Valhalla's 'Arena of Doom'—that was fun; then there were the times he physically threw the boy into cupboards and walls and doors, complete with breaking glass and all.

Leo winced at the memories as it played in his mind like a black and white movie with stereo and surround sound where applicable. "So, Chris…" Leo spoke up, not realising his mouth had even formed words; it was his mind trying to distract himself from the abuse he had showered upon his future offspring. Unfortunately for him, his brain hadn't decided on what the subject of conversation would be. "I, err…"

The half Whitelighter looked over and eyed him with, what Leo interpreted as, a tinge curiosity and a huge serving of annoyance.

"So… what do you do in the future?" Leo inwardly cringed at his pathetic topic of conversation. The worse part is, if it was that obvious to him, it would most certainly be to Chris as well.

He shrugged, "Nothing much."

Taken by surprise at Chris' lack of snappiness, Leo felt a small spark that maybe this night could change for the better. "Come on, you must have something going on; you live in a house of magic and witches," the older man grinned. "How 'bout things like your school and what you were studying?"

"I dropped out."

Any normal parent would've gawked, choked, gone wide-eyed, yelled, screamed, or just plain lose it. Then again, the word 'normal' never included half-witch-half-Whitelighters, or magic, guardian angels, time travelling sons, and potions stains on the attic rug. So in a true deviant way, Leo merely gave a good humoured frown; mostly because he was afraid anything more expressive than that would get Chris into an agitated state. "Dropped-out?"

Another shrug and an averted gaze.

What did he mean by dropped out? There was no way Piper, or even Phoebe and Paige for that matter, would've allowed their nephew to have just 'dropped out'. Even if he wasn't around much—as Chris had placed it so—it couldn't be possible that anyone at all would have let Chris, would they? "You mean college?" Leo asked gently, ignoring all other screaming questions that were popping in his brain and swarming his senses.

"I was 15."

High school, or did they send him to Magic school instead? "Why? What about your aunts—Piper?"

"Paige and Phoebe never knew." Chris' fingers wrapped around one of the napkins as he began yanking at the sides until little bits of it came in strips. "I jumped from one seer, soothsayer or fortune-teller to another. That's how I learnt about charts, zodiacs, signs, and astrology. Figured it was a way to run and hide for a while."

The expected question following that would've been, '_Run and hide from who?_' But Leo guessed who he was referring to, and he was afraid he was right about it.

"Wyatt always found where I was."

He swallowed slowly, and wondered to himself if he had opened up Pandora's Box instead; learning all about his future evil son's conquests and mayhem was not his idea of a solid conversation. Hell, maybe this was Chris' way of taking revenge on his father, by telling him all about his older son's evil ways.

'_You were never there for me. You were there for everybody else—mom, Wyatt, half the world—but you were never there for me._'

Leo had thought of ending their little tête-à-tête as it was, but at the last minute, he decided otherwise. If anything, he wanted to prove to Chris that he was here to learn more and maybe change the future other than just Wyatt's. As much as this was going to hurt, Leo was going to get to the bottom of things. "How long did you… I mean the jumping around from one place to the other."

Chris looked straight at Leo and narrowed his eyes, as if pondering on what the Elder was up to. They were treading on eggshells here and it wasn't going to be easy avoiding the sensitive issues. Leo could be as diplomatic as possible with him, but in the end it's up to Chris to decide if they were to continue.

"For about five years," Chris replied.

Nodding slightly, Leo mentally breathed a sigh of relief that he chose to answer. In his mind, he was carefully piecing together the next follow-up question and disposing of those that he figured were too judgemental or nosey. "Until you met… Bianca?" Leo made his own conclusions and counted the factors all in.

Green bits of the napkin covered the table and Chris stopped short of ripping the rest of it up. Instead, he crumpled the half that was still whole, and sat back against the chair before throwing the balled up napkin on the table.

Setting his lips into a thin line, Leo turned to look at the crowd that was beginning to build. The bartender was still hard at work mixing more cocktails, only this time they were coloured in brilliant orange that bled into the bottom layer of red. A group by the corner roared in laughter at someone's punch line—something useless to him since he missed the beginning of the joke. This table could really use some light heartedness to ease the thick tension between them.

"She was still an assassin then."

Leo whirled back to his son, surprised that he had even offered more information.

"Actually, she was trying to kill me. Well sort of," Chris grinned slightly and looked down at his hands. "Case of mistaken identity and Bianca was after the Seer I was with at that time." Slowly bringing himself forward again, Chris touched the cold glass of water, playing with the moisture from the condensation. "Sometimes, I never could tell she was even an assassin before and other times… it's so hard to forget the fact."

Taking in a deep breath, Leo knew all about the love between two unlikely beings. He had after all, fallen in love with a witch—a Charmed one no less—despite the objections from the Elders. And now, his future son had followed in his footsteps; a love between a Whitelighter and an assassin witch, "That's something to go back to."

He knew he had said the wrong thing when he saw Chris' eyes narrow and his shoulders slack. Hadn't they solved their issues in the future? Sure, he did say that Bianca wouldn't be a threat to anyone anymore, but that doesn't mean—

"She died."

Leo's mouth formed a little 'oh' as he struggled for the right words to say and realising that nothing could be said. If Piper had died, and he had witnessed it, he wouldn't be able to be this calm. "Chris, I—"

"I couldn't get to the spell on time and I had no powers. Wyatt was throwing me around like a rag doll and he killed Bianca… just like that." Chris' voice was barely above a whisper and was nearly drowned by the surrounding noise; Leo could see the hurt in his boy's eyes and it crushed him, "…Just like that."

What had actually happened in the future when he went back with Bianca was something Chris never discussed or brought up. Now, Leo understood why.

"I'm scared."

It shocked Leo to the very core that his distant son would suddenly confess to such an intimate feeling. Taking in the next few seconds to register those two words, Leo's mind finally gave up trying to find the right words, and finally releasing his heart to do the talking, "Of what?" he frowned.

"Of what I am and what I'm becoming into." Chris spread out his hands on the table, palms faced down; his skin colour blending in with the table's wood shellac. Looking up, he stared straight at his father, pale green eyes shadowed with worry and fear, "A cold blooded killer."

This was insane; there was no way even his youngest would turn evil. He wouldn't believe it—he couldn't. "No—no way…"

"I see Wyatt and look at how he just kills without remorse. I'm scared I'm turning into him."

"You and Wyatt are two different people, you are _not_ him."

"Because of our powers? He's the twice-blessed?" Chris's voice cracked as he gazed straight into Leo.

"No," Leo answered firmly and strongly, "It doesn't matter about whose got more powers, Chris. In the end, it's all about what's in your heart and I know that you're better than Wyatt." For some reason, Leo thought of himself—at that precise moment—to be playing favourites.

Light from the nearby lamp threw dark shadows on Chris' expression, making it unreadable to Leo as he searched the younger one's face. The Elder fell silent as he watched Chris roll his hands into balled up fists, "I'm no better than Wyatt," he muttered.

"Yes, you are," Leo fought the urge to grab Chris by the shoulders and shake him. "You've never killed anyone. Not now, not ever."

The darkness fell on his eyes again as he closed them, "But I did."

Three simple words and one sentence were all it took for Leo to fill dread at the pit of his stomach. It felt like he was sitting in a vacuum space and all other sounds and voices were ripped clean from reality. The truth lazily wrapped itself around Leo's shocked mind and it dawned, "The Valkyries?" It wasn't so much of a question, more of a statement of an implausible certainty.

Gradually, the boy's head dipped low in an almost passable nod.

When Leo had approached Chris earlier on with the Valkyrie pendants, he had only suspected the Whitelighter of murdering to get to those magical objects. It was just an excuse to squeeze the truth out of him. Now, Leo felt like he had cursed the reality of things and he wished he had never brought up the idea so many months ago. "How?" he matched his low voice with Chris', it was as if they were afraid someone might overhear and actually comprehend what they were about.

The question itself was much too personal, but Leo had to know.

An answer never came from Chris as Leo looked on, watching as Chris' jaw muscles tightened. At first, Leo understood if Chris had decided not to divulge on the past, and that he had chosen to remain silent and not tell, but then it was hard ignoring the glass on the table that quavered slightly.

It was also difficult to not realise Chris' tightly clenched fists shake; his sight set hard on the object of his frustration but his eyes void of anything else.

"Chris?"

The glassware began to tremble even more; tiny cracks formed.

"Chris…" Leo called out again, hoping to stop him before anything happened.

Another bigger fracture sliced through the side of the glass.

Grabbing his hand, Leo spoke his name louder and trying hard to remove his telekinetic hold, "Chris!"

Iciness left his eyes as he suddenly jerked out of his daze; the glass went to its shattering end and cold water drenched onto the table and floor.

They both watched as the liquid dripped steadily to the ground, and the world around them continued on with their own lives. No one had noticed, and those who did merely gave a passing glance at the broken pieces that littered the floor. After all, to them, it was just another accidental bump of the elbow.

"I have to go back," he snatched his hand back and stood up faster than Leo had ever seen him move.

Standing up as well, Leo tried to stop him and clasped his shoulder, "Chris, don't—"

"I've said too much already," giving a brief glance, Leo saw the plea in his eyes to let him be—for now.

Letting go, he stood there and watched as the brown-haired youngster hastily weaved through the sea of people and headed for the front door. Leo sighed and fell back on his chair as the entrance bell chimed, and Chris disappeared behind the wooden door.

Resting his gaze on the table, he realised that the water had created a mess of the green confetti that Chris had made out of his napkin. "Sorry about that," Leo apologised as one of the waitresses came by with a broom and a pan. She smiled back, her oriental features clearly showing, and said it was all right and that it happens all the time.

Sarcastically laughing at himself, Leo couldn't help but connect the glass fragments with the broken relationship with his son.

The waitress carried the pan filled with the broken pieces and simply threw it into a trashcan.

And like the shattered glass, it was going to take a lot to put it back together again.

Or he could just throw everything away.

Bringing himself up again, Leo dug into his pockets and pulled out the cash for the bill. Sure, Whitelighters aren't supposed to have money, but a father's allowed to carry some for a meal with his son. Throwing the green notes on the table, Leo waved at the same waitress before making his way out as well. Tonight's attempt at bonding with Chris wasn't a failure but neither was it a success. Come to think of it, after just now, things could go either way.

Shaking his head at the complications, Leo breathed in the night air of San Francisco and looked at the road ahead. He could just orb back to the manor or he could walk. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he took two steps forward and decided on the latter.

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**-END-**

Thanks to **Spuffyshipper**, **Melissa Jooty**, **rozzy07**, and **Lynx Silverhawk **for the lovely reviews.

To everyone else, thanks for reading.  
-Cheers  
Jo


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